Many Happy Returns
by ShadowkittenMF
Summary: A simple story from Akemi Homura's childhood, about her eighth birthday. Reposted.


Many Happy Returns

Homura sat up slowly in bed. With a breath somewhere between a sigh and a yawn, she reached over for her glasses. Her hair reached her middle back, and was braided into thick twin-tails. Her eyes were purple, and slightly unfocused until she slipped her glasses on.

She stretched, and stood up slowly, glancing as she did at the wall calender.

"Geez," she muttered.

There was a knock on her door.

"Homura-chan, you decent?"

She was wearing purple pajamas.

"Shouldn't you ask if I was awake, dad?"

The door opened, and Akemi Hideo peeked in. His dark hair was beginning to turn prematurely grey around the temples, a nearly universal trait of the Akemi men. His wife, Akemi Shiori said it made him look distinguished. He didn't buy it.

"You awake," he asked with a smirk.

"Yes, and thank goodness I was decent! Geez, dad!"

His smirk widened into a wicked grin.

"Good morning to you too, my angel."

Homura frowned.

"Breakfast is ready."

"Not really hungry."

Hideo stepped into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Is something wrong, Homura-chan?"

"You need to ask?"

He sighed, and sat down by her computer.

"Everyone has them, you know. Once a year."

"But I don't want to."

"You sound just like your mother. Look Homura-chan, turning eight means you are becoming a big girl. So that means no moping in your room. Okay?"

Homura shrugged.

"Listen," Hideo continued, "you don't have to change. Just come on out and eat breakfast. It's okay."

"Fine," she said quietly.

She slipped her feet into a pair of fuzzy slippers, and padded over to the door. Hideo tried not to laugh at the grumpy expression that remained on her face.

She walked slowly down the hallway, past her parents' room. Past the living-room. To her left, just past the bathroom and toilet, was the door to the back yard, and stairs down to the basement,

"Good morning, Homura-chan," Shiori said brightly as the girl entered the kitchen. Like her daughter, she had dark hair, though hers reached well below her middle back. Her eyes were a shade lighter, more blue than purple.

A small foldable card-table had been set up here and covered with a vinyl table-cloth. Homura sat down in front of a plate piled with scrambled eggs, and a bowl of miso soup.

Hideo arrived a moment later, kissing his wife on the cheek, and sitting beside Homura. An identical breakfast sat before him.

"So tomorrow is the big day," Shiori said with a grin, sitting down at last.

Hideo grimaced.

"No," Homura muttered, shoveling a forkfull of eggs into her mouth.

"No? No what?"

"Homura-chan is not pleased about having a birthday."

Shiori giggled.

"Homura-chan, you are far too young for that kind of attitude!"

"I just don't wanna have a birthday."

The adults glanced at one another.

"Well, you will feel better tomorrow, I am sure."

"No. I don't want a birthday. Don't want a cake. Don't want a party."

Shiori blanched.

"No ... party?"

"No."

"But, Homura-chan," Hideo said, "every little girl has a birthday party."

"No."

"Well, I am sure your friends would want to have one for you. Chitose-chan seemed really excited ..."

"No," Homura repeated.

There was an awkward silence.

"Well, if you don't want a party we won't force you to have one," Hideo said slowly.

"I don't want one," Homura repeated.

More silence.

"What do you want to do? I mean, moping around in your room won't help you know."

Homura looked up at her mother, with the faintest expression of surprise. Had she not considered this?

"Well, it is your birthday, so we will do whatever you want to do," Hideo asserted.

Again, silence for a moment.

"The mall," Homura decided.

The adults again glanced at one another.

"Okay. And do what?"

"Shop."

Shiori's expression turned to concern.

"Homura, you do know that you will be getting presents tomorrow, right?"

The girl again glanced up in surprise. After a moment of shocked silence, absorbing the fact that her mother had left off the customary honorific, she nodded.

"I know that. But I don't want to ... I mean, parties are for kids."

"Most eight year olds are considered kids," Hideo replied.

"Yeah, but ... I just don't want that. Okay?"

"Yes Homura, we already agreed, didn't we?"

* * *

"So, after all that stuff about parties being childish, you want to go into a toy store?"

Hideo cracked a smile despite (or perhaps because of) his daughter's obvious discomfort.

"Umm ... yes."

"Well, it is your birthday. Even if we've bent over backwards for you this year, and probably made Chitose-chan and the others really sad, it is still your day. So ... go on ahead. I will get you any one thing you want."

"Really?"

"Sure, why not."

Shiroi glanced at her husband, who just gave a little shrug.

Homura grinned widely, spun on her heels, and very nearly crashed into a passing woman.

Homura's little mind reeled. The toy store was huge! Rows upon rows of stuffed animals, and building blocks, toy robots, figurines and dolls and models, and so much more.

Of course, it wasn't like it was her first time here, right? So, she told herself, start on the right hand side, and look. Browse. That is what she was here for. So. Shop!

The first row, on the far right side, was given over to boy's toys. Soldiers, vehicles, figures from that one new, hot super-sentai show. She moved quickly down this aisle, not figuring she'd find anything.

For a moment, she stopped. She reached out a tentative hand, touching the cold, hard plastic. It was a toy gun, black or dark blue in color, with a bright orange tip. It was modeled loosely after a US M1911 pistol, though the girl didn't know that.

She blinked, and half-turned. A boy, maybe the same age, stood timidly behind her. Homura blushed, shrugged, and made some half-hearted comment about such a toy not being interesting for her, before scurrying off down the aisle.

A second row held things for older boys. Model kits and paints, role-playing books, figma, manga, video games. And, most daunting of all, were the high school and college age boys ( and maybe a girl or two) crowded in. She skipped this row.

She moved down the next row instead. Traditional ceramic-body dolls, ball-joint dolls, plushies ... the beginning of what they defined as girls' toys.

She came to the modern plastic dolls. A little shiver ran up her spine. What was this feeling?

Her eyes scanned the selection of anatomically-improbable, vacant-eyed fashion toys. Surely nothing here could interest her?

There were four dolls.

The girls from that one anime that was popular: Chie-chan, with her purple eyes and hair, Ai-chan with her firey-red hair (and personality), Kaori-chan in her fancy yellow princess dress, Eri-chan in her blue tomboy outfit, and Yuuki-chan in pink.

Pink.

Homura gasped, and looked at Yuuki-chan more closely.

She wore a frilly pink dress. Shoulder-length pink hair was tied into twin pony-tails by dainty red ribbons. White socks reached her knees, and red shoes adorned her feet. Her pink, glass eyes glittered in the light of the toy-store.

Homura grasped the box, and lifted, incidentally tilting it backward.

The doll blinked.

Homura stifled a gasp, nearly dropping it.

Then she remembered, that they all did that. Their eyes blinked when they were moved. That, and hair you could really style, were called the dolls' "charm points."

This was it.

"Find something, Homura-chan?"

"Yes," she said, still staring at Yuuki-chan.

"Are you sure you don't want Chie-chan instead? She looks just like you, you know."

"No dad. I want Yuuki-chan."

* * *

Homura sat in the back seat of the family car. Yuuki-chan, still in her box, sat on the girl's lap. She had a distant look in her eyes as she gazed at the pink-clothed doll.

"You can open the box up, and hold her you know."

"I know mom, but I don't wanna lose her hair-clips."

Shiori chuckled.

"I see. Anyway, she is cute, but why Yuuki-chan and not one of her sisters?"

"She looks just like the woman in my dream. Well, actually she doesn't. But she does remind me of her."

"Woman? What dream?"

"You know, _that_ dream."

Shiori glanced back at her daughter, with an uncertain smile.

"No Homura-chan. I don't know."

"Oh. Thought I told you. Well, it is kinda like this:"

Her eyes open. Briefly a sharp, medicine smell washes over her. She blinks. Far above her, the sky stretches – endless and dark blue. She sits up slowly. She wears a thin purple dress. She is barefoot.

She is surrounded by tall grass, and wildflowers. Yellow, blue, red, and purple. She does not know what their names are.

She blinks again. In the distance looms a massive castle. A fairy-tale structure. Mottled pink and white marble gleams brightly. She doesn't know what the stone is called, of course. Still, it's beauty is breath-taking. Homura is scared. Still, she stands up. Still, she walks slowly toward the castle, despite the anxiety, terror even, that gnaws at the pit of her stomach.

As she approaches, a massive double-door made of solid dark wood opens without a sound. Homura stops. But, she is unable to stop for long.

She pads forward. The ground is soft beneath her feet.

She passes through the open portal. A soft gasp escapes her lips.

An inescapably beautiful woman stands there. She wears white. A long, flowing, white dress. Folds and ruffles capture Homura's eyes, finally drawing her to the sparkling purple velvet lining the inner side of the partly open skirt. But it is not velvet so much as the infinite starry night sky.

She wears wing-heeled pink boots that reach to her mid-thigh.

A white-gloved hand gestures. Homura's eyes are drawn up to a pink tear-dropped gem at the woman's breast, and up further.

Her eyes are golden. The pierce into Homura's soul. Homura shudders. The woman is smiling. Houra feels fear, and love, and joy, all at the same moment. She is confused.

It is only after an infinity staring into those eyes that Homura is able to take in the long, flowing pink hair bound into loose pony-tails by white ribbons.

When her eyes open, for real, it is that long pink hair that she remembers first. It is only after sitting up in bed, shivering, that the rest of the details of the woman flood back over her.

"So Yuuki-chan is perfect, because she has pink hair."

Shiori glanced at Hideo with a frown.

"Well," her father said, "sometimes we have dreams like that. They usually don't mean anything."

"Right," Shiori agreed slowly.

"Actually, you probably just remember seeing Yuuki-chan in that anime, and dream about her," Hideo said after a brief pause.

"You think so?" Homura asked, not really convinced.

"Probably," her mother stated.


End file.
